From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 320

Chapter 320 You’re Leander?

Lydia turned to look, and at the doorway of the chapel stood a tall, graceful young man, his features striking and noble. Though he was dressed simply, Lydia could sense an extraordinary presence about him, something beyond ordinary.

It was Leander. He kept his gaze steady, controlling his emotions as best he could, and inclined his head slightly at the doorway.

“I’m late today,” he said quietly. “May I light another candle? I hope it’s not too late.”

Lydia returned to herself and offered a gentle smile. She nodded.

“To anyone with faith, it’s never too late to pray,” she said warmly.

She personally handed Leander three candles, and he stepped forward to take them.

Just as she was about to light them for him, something made her pause. The candles slipped from her hands to the floor.

Leander noticed immediately and bent to pick them up—but then he heard Lydia’s trembling voice.

“Leander?”

His eyes widened, a surge of emotion crashing through him.

He was stunned. He had worked so hard to restrain his feelings, leaving no trace of emotion- but how could Lydia have recognized him just like that?

“Leander… It’s really you! Leander!”

With a cry that broke Lydia’s voice, she turned and embraced him. Her tears flowed freely, soaking his shirt.

Leander stood frozen, and even with his disciplined heart, he couldn’t stop the sting in his nose.

Moments passed, but his emotions swelled beyond control. His voice, trembling in a way he had never experienced, finally broke through.

“Mom!”

That single word made Lydia’s entire body shudder.

“Leander… It’s really you! My Leander… you’re not gone… My Leander isn’t gone!”

She could hardly believe her eyes. She could hardly trust what she felt. Ever since Leander’s martial power had been stripped by Gareth nine years ago, a part of her heart had died.

Even though she refused to accept that her eldest son was gone, she had to admit that the odds of him surviving were nearly nonexistent.

A ten–year–old child, stripped of his martial power, gravely wounded, abandoned in the mountains–anyone in that situation would almost certainly have perished.

And yet here he was, alive, standing before her.

Leander… I must be dreaming, right?”

She clutched his arms, feeling the warmth of his hands. Finally, she knew–this was no dream. This was real.

She pulled him down to sit beside her, and it took her several long moments to steady her tears. Her eyes, wide and trembling, were fixed on him.

“Leander…. it really is you… I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Leander sat cross–legged beside her and nodded, heavily but firmly.

“Mom… it’s me. I’m back.”

He hadn’t planned to reveal himself today. His intent had only been to accompany Lydia under the pretense of lighting candles, to spend a little time with her and then leave.

But he hadn’t expected that Lydia would recognize him immediately.

Leander looked at her, warmth flooding his chest. He told her briefly about the years he had survived, skipping over the dangerous trials and battles he had endured to gain strength. He told her simply that he had lived–and eventually made his way to Mornwick.

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